


tremble

by julesmpm



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet, F/M, fight me, reunited, these two did not go that whole episode without seeing each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 05:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18910678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julesmpm/pseuds/julesmpm
Summary: There is still ash that falls on Kings Landing.





	tremble

**Author's Note:**

> Well.
> 
> We really made it to the end, folks. I have plenty of thoughts on the finale but what I can say is that Gendry and Arya's ending (or lack thereof) leaves lots of room to explore, and you can bet that's what I intend to do over the next little while.
> 
> This is just a little self indulgent unedited ficlet because there is no way in hell Arya and Gendry had no contact with each other in Kings Landing. No way.

There is still ash that falls on Kings Landing.

 

If one looked only for a brief moment, a passing glance, it could be mistaken for a dusting of snow, precipitation layering a soft blanket over the tattered bricks and cobblestones of the city.

 

Closer inspection, however, reveals the secrets of the light peppering upon the surfaces; the actuality that the flakes were not those made from water, but from where fire meets stone.

 

Ash rains upon the capital for over a week after Daenerys Targaryen falls.

 

She wonders if Jon can still feel the smoke in his lungs, the heat on his skin.

 

She wonders if he can see the ash from his prison cell.

 

She has washed herself, scrubbed her skin until it is raw and red, and yet the feeling of the battle’s grime still lingers like a shadow.

 

There’s been a call for council amongst the most powerful in the Seven Kingdoms, she’s been told. Her presence has been requested, as well as her sister’s and brother’s, in order to discuss the future of the realm.

 

She doesn’t care for the realm much, anymore.

 

She does, however, care about Jon, and so she tells Ser Davos that she will be in attendance.

 

Ser Davos nods when she agrees, and reads her the list of the expected lords and ladies on their way to Kings Landing.

 

Her heart catches at the mention of Lord Baratheon’s anticipated arrival.

 

The ash begins to slow.

 

She has taken to wandering about the city, even though every breath she draws is suffocating.

 

Before everyone else arrives, before everything is decided for good, she wants to take inventory of what remains. She wants to try and understand the destruction.

 

She shouldn’t be surprised when she spots a familiar silhouette when she turns the corner to what was once Flea Bottom.

 

But her breath still gets caught in her throat.

 

He’s motionless, tense, staring into the rubble, and there’s a moment when she considers leaving, turning quietly and letting him mourn the place he once called home.

 

But he turns abruptly before she can decide to move, and his eyes are suddenly and intensely fixed on her.

 

There are tear tracks drying upon his cheeks, she can see now, and she suddenly wants nothing more than to run her thumbs down the trails, soothe the turmoil that inevitably lies within his mind.

 

But she doesn’t move; only looks back to him.

 

“You were here.” His voice echoes off of the cracked walls, the dusty cobblestones, and it’s hollow, factual. Almost angry. “You came here.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You left to come to here to aid in the battle against the Queen.”

 

“It was no battle.” Her response holds no hesitation, not a quiver in tone. “It was a massacre.”

 

He steps closer, close enough that she can see his eyes clearly, and his gaze is anger mingled with pain, with worry, with some sort of ache that she can’t quite place.

 

“You left without a word.”

 

“I told Sansa. And Bran.” _Not that Bran needed to be told of anything, anyways._

“You didn’t tell _me_.”

 

And suddenly, it stings. So much so that she takes a step away.

 

“I didn’t have time. The Kingsroad is not an easy journey, nor a swift one.” He’s shaking his head before the words leave her mouth, his lips drawing together into a single tight line. “It was of the utmost importance that I leave immediately, with as little celebration or distraction as possible.”

 

“I could’ve accompanied you.”

 

“I wasn’t alone.” Their eyes have not parted, not for a single second. “Sandor Clegane was my companion on the journey. He and I departed on the same afternoon.”

 

“I could’ve helped in the fight–”

 

“You’d be dead.” The words ring in her ears, and her eyes blaze. “There was no fight, Gendry. The Dragon Queen’s fire decimated every inch of this city. There was only death.”

 

_Everyone died_.

 

“You didn’t die.” She lets out a humorless laugh.

 

“I should’ve.” The words taste bitter on her tongue, and now she’s the one who sounds hollow.

 

Her lips purse together as she tries to will their screams to leave her mind.

 

He takes another step towards her, and this time she watches as his eyes flit to take all of her in, feels them pause on the healing marks on her cheek and forehead.

 

It feels as though the dust has dried out her lungs as she tries to draw steady breath.

 

“Cersei is dead.” She nods to confirm his statement, although she’s sure he’s held that piece of information for quite some time. “Did you kill her?”

 

“She died when the wall collapsed.” _And she could’ve been right there next to her._ “I don’t know if she was ever mine to kill, really.”

 

He steps closer again, and now she can see the softness in his eyes, still red and watery from the tears shed before.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” She speaks quickly before he has the chance to formulate his next sentence, and she watches as his eyebrows raise in slight surprise. “I just…I didn’t want the chance to overthink my decision to go. I didn’t want to start questioning whether it was the right choice.”

 

“I wouldn’t have stopped you.” His voice is soft now, too, and it nearly shatters her whole being. “I was _worried_ about you, Arya. For all I know, you could’ve died in the flames and I’d never even have known you were here.”

 

“I didn’t need any more worry.” She remembers the way Sansa looked at her when she declared her intention, the way she held her hand so tightly that Arya thought it would break. “I needed to go.”

 

She breaks eye contact, looks down at her boots, and she listens to the wind whistle through the broken towers.

 

It’s so quiet now.

 

“Arya.” His voice makes her raise her chin, and he’s looking at her with this expression of pain and tenderness and it nearly makes her legs buckle beneath her.

 

Instead, she uses them to propel her forwards, close the remaining gap between them, and presses her lips to his.

 

It’s a moment of some sort of bliss before he pulls back, looks at her with great blue eyes nearly overflowing with raw torment, and she knows that it isn’t fair, not after she’s hurt him so, not after she turned him down on bended knee, not after she left without a single word.

 

And then his lips move to hers and his fingers tangle in her hair and the salt of her tears mix with the taste of his mouth and she feels the world drop out from under her.

 

The last time she was met with this urgency, she was sure that they were going to die.

 

Now she’s sure that they are going to live, and the terror somehow grows tenfold.

 

But somehow, as Gendry’s lips move to her cheek and her collarbone and her shoulder and her chest and later _down_ , she can let herself slip into a blessed ignorance.

 

Together they are hungry and raw, tired, aching, trembling.

 

Tomorrow, perhaps, they will be better.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be back soon with some more Gendrya, because lord knows that's all I've been able to think about recently.
> 
> Comments warm my heart!
> 
> xoxo


End file.
